Before I had a love of art, I had a love of literature. I loved to read, it was my escape from life, my place of comfort, I could think of nothing better than disappearing into a world of love and adventure, of long lost worlds and heroic characters, only resurfacing hours later when brought back to reality by my mother's voice; "can you set the table?!" As my love of literature grew, I began to write my own stories and by the time I was 9 years old I loved to write as much as I loved to read, with 3 full length stories under my belt. Problems arose when I wanted to illustrate my stories (I didn't think I could draw), I wasted no time in enlisting the help of my older brother (I knew he could draw), who to my utter surprise and dismay (at the time and now a little bit, if I'm honest) ''had better things to do with his time!" . What was a girl to do? Well, I taught myself how to draw and their began my love of art, but sadly in the process of learn...
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